Snob

As the Scriptures remind us, “Do not believe the hype.” The hype of the moment is ISIS, the Sunni militia that just drove the so-called Iraqi Army out of Mosul, Tikrit, and other Iraqi cities.

This is one of those dramatic military reverses that mean a lot less than meets the eye. The “Iraqi Army” routed by ISIS wasn’t really a national army, and ISIS isn’t really a dominant military force. It was able to occupy those cities because they were vacuums, abandoned by a weak, sectarian force. Moving into vacuums like this is what ISIS is good at. And that’s the only thing ISIS is good at.

ISIS is a sectarian Sunni militia—that’s all. A big one, as militias go, with something like 10,000 fighters. Most of them are Iraqi, a few are Syrian, and a few hundred are those famous “European jihadis” who draw press attention out of all relation to their negligible combat value. The real strength of ISIS comes from its Chechen fighters, up to a thousand of them. A thousand Chechens is a serious force, and a terrifying one if they’re bearing down on your neighborhood. Chechens are the scariest fighters, pound-for-pound, in the world.

But we’re still talking about a conventional military force smaller than a division. That’s a real but very limited amount of combat power. What this means is that, no matter how many scare headlines you read, ISIS will never take Baghdad, let alone Shia cities to the south like Karbala. It won’t be able to dent the Kurds’ territory to the north, either. All it can do—all it has been doing, by moving into Sunni cities like Mosul and Tikrit—is to complete the partition of Iraq begun by our dear ex-president Bush in 2003. By crushing Saddam’s Sunni-led Iraq, the Americans made partition inevitable. In fact, Iraq has been partitioned ever since the invasion; it’s just been partitioned badly, into two parts instead of the natural three: the Kurdish north, and the remainder occupied by a weak sectarian Shia force going by the name of “The Iraqi Army.” The center of the country, the so-called “Sunni Triangle,” had no share in this partition and was under the inept, weak rule of the Shia army.

By occupying the Sunni cities, ISIS has simply made a more rational partition, adding a third part, putting the Sunni Triangle back under Sunni rule. The Shia troops who fled as soon as they heard that the ISIS was on the way seem to have anticipated that the Sunni would claim their own territory someday. That’s why they fled without giving even a pretense of battle.

So, Iraq is now partitioned on more natural, sensible lines, thanks to ISIS. It’s going to be a messy transition, as Iraqi transitions tend to be, with mass executions of collaborators like those already happening in Mosul and Tikrit.

But in the long run, ISIS has simply swept into a power vacuum, like it’s done from the start.

ISIS has always been good at generating scary stories about itself, like the notion that it was kicked out of Al Qaeda for being “too extreme.” It’s true that ISIS has a beef with Zawahiri, the nominal head of Al Qaeda, but the issue isn’t extremism. Their quarrel was a turf war about who would get the Al Qaeda franchise in Syria, and it just showed ISIS’s most pronounced characteristic in action: A real knack for moving in on vulnerable turf.

In fact, ISIS’s quarrel with Zawahiri was a lot like a corporate boardroom feud. It’s always worth remembering that Jihadis are just friggin’ people, and their disagreements tend to be about very ordinary organizational issues. Granted, it’s a little harder to see that when they solve those disagreements with public beheadings and overly-cinematic rituals, but at heart this is just standard human behavior—primates squabbling for rank and power, Game of Thrones with Islamic voiceover.

Even the name, “I.S.I.S.,” is the result of a series of policy disputes and turf wars. “I.S.I.S.” is an English-language acronym, standing for “The Islamic State of Iraq and al-Shams [Greater Syria].” You may have seen people insist on calling it “I.S.I.L.,” because they translate “al-Shams” as “the Levant,” the old-fashioned term for the Eastern Mediterranean shore. Arabs don’t use either of these acronyms; the Arabic acronym for the group is “Daash,” as in this headline describing the aftermath of I.S.I.S.’s conquest of Mosul: “Daash Executed 12 Imam [sic] who refused to pledge allegiance.”

The most important thing about this name is that it’s clear about policy—“Islamic State”—and very flexible about territory. The Islamic State is supposed to cover the whole world, so it doesn’t matter very much which chunk of turf it starts on. None of the borders of the Arab Middle East—Iraq, Syria, Jordan—mean much if you believe in a Caliphate that should encompass the whole Ummah, every believer in the world. So I.S.I.S. has always been vague about territory. It’s a fluid group, moving away from pressure and toward chaos, toward regions where authority is weak and there’s room to expand. Think of I.S.I.S. as something between a liquid and a gas, always striving to fill a void.

It started with a small group of Sunni militants who agreed, around the turn of the Millenium, to overthrow the monarchy in Jordan. You may remember a shadowy Scarlet Pimpernel figure called “Al Zarqawi,” who was built up into the Mister Big of the Sunni insurgency in Iraq by US public-relations mouthpieces. He was called “Al Zarqawi” because he came from the town of Zarqa, a town in Jordan founded by Chechen refugees who gave the peaceful Arabs an infusion of Chechen ferocity.

Zarqawi’s group didn’t do very well in Jordan. Jordan’s Bedouin security guys don’t play around, as the PLO found out in what came to be known as Black September.

By 2002, Zarqawi was in bad shape, on the run with a bullet in his leg. Things were looking bleak for Sunni Islamists all over the Middle East…until the Spring of 2003, when a couple of guys named Bush and Cheney gave them new life by invading Iraq, crushing Saddam’s Sunni-dominated Iraqi state, and pushing millions of Iraqi Sunni into armed insurgency.

Within a few months, insurgent groups formed in every Sunni neighborhood in Iraq. That’s how insurgencies begin, with the strongest, most charismatic guys in the neighborhood (let’s face it, Sunni insurgencies are male-dominated, and I’m not going to go bother with de-gendered pronouns here) rounding up their cousins, choosing a pious, identifiably Sunni name, and planning a first strike.

It’s a brutal learning curve for these groups. Some are penetrated and betrayed before they can do anything—somebody’s cousin wasn’t as trustworthy as they thought. Some are wiped out the first time they attack an army patrol, or lose the leaders who kept the group together. Some break up over trivial ego issues, and the loser informs on the winner. The death rate is appalling in this sped-up unnatural selection, and those who survive it are the ones who are willing to be flexible about territory, moving away from pressure, toward chaos, rather than fighting to the death.

Zarqawi’s career is a classic example of that fluidity. Even after jumping from Jordan to Iraq after the invasion, he didn’t move immediately to the Arab cities of the Sunni Triangle. He started with a Kurdish jihadi group, Ansar al-Islam, that was holed up in Halabja, a hill village a few miles from Suleimaniya, where I used to teach. When I was there in 2010, locals still boasted of the battle that drove Ansar al-Islam out of Halabja, killing most of the core membership.

Zarqawi survived that attack and landed in the Sunni Triangle, working with the usual alphabet soup of jihadi groups, which go through more name-changes than a band full of speed freaks. Some of these names, coming straight out of the gaudy tradition of Islamic rhetoric, really don’t translate very well—“The Oath of the Scented Ones” being a prime example.

Zarqawi’s group, one of many forming and bursting in the Sunni Triangle, went through several name changes before it finally settled on the no-nonsense title of “The Islamic State of Iraq,” or “I.S.I.” in the Autumn of 2006. By then, Zarqawi was dead, vaporized in a U.S. air strike in June 2006.

At the time, American reporters crowed over his death, going for the old “Mister Big” theory of insurgency that never fits the facts. Insurgent groups go through leaders like Spinal Tap went through drummers, and often the cull makes them stronger, since every new generation selects for the most ruthless, cunning survivor in the group. Eager martyr types die fast. Macho idiots die even faster. Only the most cautious, hard-bitten, businesslike jihadis survive long enough to move up to a leadership position.

It’s amazing how well combat selects for talent. Nothing rewards talent less than a peacetime army, and nothing rewards it faster than an army actually in combat. And irregular forces, which usually suffer something like a 10:1 casualty rate against conventional occupiers, go through a nightmare-quick selection process.

ISIS went through a lot of commanders before one stuck. He was a product of Islamic schools and US prison camps. He called himself Abu Bakr al Baghdadi, which means exactly nothing except that he’s claiming to be from Baghdad. He got out of prison in 2009 and walked into a leadership vacuum created by an airstrike which killed his predecessor—nothing like airstrikes to make room at the top—and oversaw ISIS’s move away from pressure once again, out of the cities toward the deserts of Anbar Province where Sunni sheikhs maintained strong clan networks. It wasn’t much, but it was a safe base, and that’s something any mixed militia/guerrilla force requires.

ISIS got its second great break when The Syrian Civil War exploded in 2012. They looked west, across the Anbar deserts, and saw a huge organizational opportunity opening up in Syria. Assad’s troops had abandoned most of Eastern Syria to focus on defending the Alawite heartland along the coast. That vacuum created an opportunity for lots of people: The Syrian Kurds, who occupied a tier along the Turkish border in the northeast; dozens of local mafia/resistance groups, who mobilized to profit from the wide-open borders; and the nucleus of ISIS, who saw a chance to set up a little emirate in this new no-man’s-land in the wastelands of eastern Syria, along the borders with Anbar.

That’s the key here: ISIS is a physics demonstration in guerrilla form. It began as a Jordanian insurgent group. Jordan was too tough to crack, and the group was under deadly strain until Bush and Cheney gave it new life with the 2003 invasion. It moved into Iraq, first to the north, in Kurdistan, and then, as the pressure grew up there, to the south and west, landing in Anbar. And when a new low-pressure system opened up to the west in Syria, ISIS flowed into it like a rain cloud—right along a natural pathway, the Euphrates River, which flows eastward into Anbar from Syria.

Syria should have been ISIS’s greatest moment, but things didn’t work out for it there. Not because it was “extreme,” but because it tried too hard to dominate the market against savvy local competition. Syria was a wide-open market for jihadi organizers, free to operate openly over most of the country after decades of effective repression. Money was pouring in from fat armchair jihadis in Saudi, Kuwait, and the Emirates—enough to pay jihadis a first-world salary of $1,500/mo. If you had a good line of patter and a few Quranic passages memorized, you could score some investment money. And military entrepreneurs poured in to take advantage of the opportunity; so many that by 2013, there were 1,200 different jihadi groups operating in Syria.

These baby militias popped up, prospered for a while, then vanished like Ethiopian restaurants. And out of the chaos, ISIS was ready to make its move, with a decade of guerrilla knowledge gained the hard way over the border in Iraq. ISI (soon to be ISIS) started well, grabbing the strategic town of ar-Raqqah in central Syria, upriver on the Euphrates from ISI’s home base in Anbar, over the border. ISI(S) now had a safe base of operations, a luxury it had never experienced before.

ISI(S) felt entitled to lead the jihad. Syria, Iraq—what was the difference? Those were fake borders anyway (which is sort of true, actually). The Sunni on the Syrian side were the natural allies of the Sunni in Anbar, and ISI(S) had been leading them in Anbar for years.

So Abu Bakr started asserting himself a little in Syria. A little too much, in fact. Jihad may be a universal, but politics, as they say, is always local—and the locals weren’t happy with the foreign fighters telling them how to do their war. It wasn’t a matter of being more “extreme,” or more “Islamist.” In fact, every single Sunni militia in Syria is “Islamist.” There are no secularists in Syria, at least none who’ll admit it. It ain’t a healthy thing to admit. All 1,200 resistance groups are “extreme” and “Islamist.” There’s not much point in being a friggin’ jihadi if you don’t believe in jihad.

The issue was power and precedence. Who owned the resistance? Of course, there were front groups like the “Free Syrian Army” (pause for laughter), set up to convince the West to give up some serious weaponry by playing at being “moderate.” But how many divisions did the FSA ever have? None, really—a few officers who’d defected from Assad’s army, but very few fighters willing to die for the cause.

There were only two real claimants, ISI and Jabhat al-Nusra, and both were as extreme and Islamist as anyone could ask. JaN had deeper roots in Syria, but ISI had been bleeding for jihad for ten long years, and Abu Bakr felt entitled by that decade of combat to step in as emir of the Syrian operation. Like a good CEO, he moved west to take over the new, expanding Syrian operation, and changed the firm’s name from ISI to ISIS to reflect the new Syrian focus.

But when you have 1,200 different factions to deal with, you have at least 1,200 egos to massage, and every damn one of them has a few dozen, or a few hundred, men ready to kill, and die, at his command. These nay-sayers were not in the mood to let some Iraqi interloper take over the Syrian revolution, and insisted on localizing what ISIS saw as the inherently universal mandate of jihad. The local/universal tension is deep in Islam, which borrowed Christianity’s universalizing mandate. In theory, a Chechen who knows the Quran is as entitled to tell a Syrian what to do as anyone else. In practice, he’s a jerk, and if he tells you to do things a different way than your family has done them for generations, you don’t care how many verses he can quote at you. You’re pissed off.

ISIS’s Syrian forces were full of loudmouthed young Islamic pedants, all heavily armed, and all eager to tell the locals how to live. It didn’t go over very well. It wasn’t about “extremism” as much as “localism.” ISIS was eventually forced out of Aleppo in favor of Jabhat al Nusra and the Islamic Front—both every bit as extreme as ISIS, but with more local recruits who didn’t rub everybody the wrong way quite as much. Zawahiri chimed in from his hiding place in Pakistan to scold ISIS, saying in typically florid jihadi lingo something that amounted to “You’re gonna screw us up in Syria just like you and Zarqawi did in Iraq!” His verdict was that ISIS should move east to Iraq, and Jabhat al Nusra should be Al Qaeda’s franchise in Syria.

Abu Bakr did not take kindly to this sort of provincialism. When you’ve been fighting for ten years, and seen pretty much everybody you care about killed, often in fairly gruesome ways, you don’t really want to hear a lot of noise about how local sensibilities must be respected, and corporate HQ back in the mountains of Pakistan must be obeyed.

ISIS replied with a program of assassinations directed at dissenting jihadis, starting in January 2014. When they killed al-Suri (“The Syrian”), Zawahiri’s envoy sent to settle the dispute, in February 2014, it was flat-out war between ISIS and every other faction in Syria. More than 2,000 casualties later, that feud is still simmering.

But as the pressure ramped up in Syria, a new low-pressure area was opening up to the east in Iraq. Since the Americans left Iraq at the end of 2011, ISIS had been picking away at their Shia replacements, always testing, looking for weakness. And they found plenty of it. In July 2013 they broke into Abu Ghraib prison—yes, THAT Abu Ghraib—and broke out hundreds of their comrades who were fed back into the war against the Shia in Iraq. The Shia security services were showing weakness, and it doesn’t take long in the gigantic maximum-security institution we call Iraq for your fellow inmates to smell weakness and jump you.

All ISIS had to do was tilt to the east, along the axis of the Euphrates River. This river defines the territory of the Sunni insurgency. It starts in Syria, passes through ar-Raqqah, ISIS’s HQ in Syria, and crosses into Iraq, passing through ISIS strongholds like Ramadi and Fallujah before veering south toward the Gulf. The Euphrates defines the insurgency, not because ISIS fighters actually need it to travel but because, before the 20^th century, settlement was only possible along its banks, so the Sunni Arabs built their towns along the river.

And at the beginning of 2014, ISIS, facing a tough fight from angry jihadi rivals in Syria, simply headed downstream, along the Euphrates, back to the area of weakness it had smelled in Iraq. Think of the Euphrates as a see-saw; when pressure on the western end pushed it up, ISIS just slid down to the other end of the plank, the city of Fallujah. ISIS took control of Fallujah at the beginning of the year 2014.

That wasn’t such a shock. Fallujah has always been a combative Sunni city, as the US military  discovered a couple of times during the US occupation. Many irregular forces grab cities for short periods as a show of strength, then retreat when the regular army moves in. But that didn’t happen in Fallujah, and that was very bad news for Maliki and the Shia coalition that rules Iraq (more or less). Their expensive, American-trained army was unable to take back Fallujah, which is still in ISIS’s hands.

That was showing weakness on a Vegas-size billboard, and other Sunni strongholds got the message very quickly, especially Mosul, where Saddam’s officer corps has been simmering since it was dismissed with prejudice by the US occupiers. Mosul fell to ISIS in the second week of June, 2014.

ISIS now controls most of Anbar as well as a huge chunk of eastern and central Syria. It’s a de facto Sunni state, straddling the Syria/Iraq border between Kurdish and Shia territory.

And that’s as far as it will go. ISIS has done well to take back its natural constituency, the Sunni center of Iraq. It will push against the Shia to the south, but they’ll fight much better on their own turf. And if it has any sense, it won’t even try to push against the Persh Merga. I used to see the Pesh Merga every day, and they ain’t nobody to mess with.

So out of all this chaos and blood comes something like a vindication of the laws of physics, as expressed in ethnic turf wars. But with one modification of those laws: Some things really don’t abhor a vacuum, especially transnational ethnic militias. They love a vacuum more than Alice did on the Brady Bunch.

Inspired by Mario Wienerroither's Musicless Musicvideos, Amsterdam-based ad agency House of Halo re-edits Katy Perry's video for Dark Horse without the music.


House of Halo

Thanks Erik

Mario Wienerroither, whom we know from his Musicless Musicvideo series, does the exact opposite with the 1922 Dracula-inspired silent film Nosferatu, to which he ads the lacking sound effects.

1. Every couple fights.

This is said to defend the times they fight in front of you and you’re left awkwardly pretending you don’t exist while they make “you always disrespect me” and “you’re such a diva” comments to each other. Nope. Totally not true. Disagreement is totally normal and healthy, and conversations about how to move forward are inevitable and important. But having loud fights, fighting in public, picking at each other in front of your friends and family — that’s a diseased relationship and it needs some serious TLC or else it’s going to fall apart. Normal adults don’t make each other so crazy that they can’t think rationally and have a measured disagreement.

2. Casual sex is always unfulfilling.

There’s a cultural myth that people who say casual sex is fulfilling are lying to seem cool (?) or something (?) because no one could possibly actually think that way. What these people don’t understand is that just because something makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t mean everyone else in the world feels that way. No, we don’t naturally “need” more, people have been hermits since the beginning of people. Marriage and families make some people happy, solitude makes others happy. Do whatever you want to do and don’t spend time stressing out about people who choose differently. That’s the only unhealthy thing that’s happening with regard to people making their own choices.

3. “Happy wife, happy life.”

This is how I think people view marriage, roughly: women grow up responsible and wanting commitment. Men grow up running away from commitment and wanting to be “wild.” When a woman “captures” a man and tricks him into marriage she is responsible for civilizing his wildness through forcing him to live in a home with throw pillows and plates that match bowls. The men have to learn all the tricks women grew up learning and buy them domestic items to make them happy so that they can be rewarded with sex or the pleasure of living with someone that is pleasant to be around.

I mean, how else do people think the happy wife, happy life mantra plays out? It makes women seem shrewd and men seem like dumbasses. In a healthy relationship, you aim for both people to be happy, but you also strive to have reasonable expectations of what you need in order to be happy. For instance, not needing someone to treat you like a princess or be your domestic servant in order to be happy is a great place to start.

4. When you get married, your sex life is OVER.

It doesn’t take much to find a lot of evidence to back this up, try stomaching some of the stories over at r/deadbedrooms. The problem is that 99% of these stories aren’t about someone who was “tricked” into marrying someone without a sex drive, the problem is that they never bothered to figure this out in the first place. Here’s a tip: don’t get married to someone who doesn’t think sex is unworthy (or too embarrassing) to talk about. That’s a teenager’s relationship. The lack of sex doesn’t come from commitment, it comes from committing to someone who isn’t willing to be an adult and address or fix problems. Committing to someone is normal and healthy, committing someone who believes staying stuck in their problems is okay, is definitely not.

5. “I can do anything in my relationship I could do single, I just have a friend to do it with now.”

This is a somewhat harmless lie, to be honest, but it goes on the list for it’s lack of self-awareness. It’s used to defend your relationship when people are talking about how much they enjoy the freedom of being single. It’s not true that you can do anything single people can do when you’re in a relationship and it shouldn’t be true. Again, learn to be okay with other people making different choices than you did, and enjoy what you have.

6. Trashing your partner is normal or just “venting.”

I cannot speak to what guys do but if you’re a woman at any gather (though in my experience, especially family gatherings) you will at some point be in a women only group that sits around and trashes their partner. “OMG when I first met Matt, he didn’t even know what a napkin was!” “LOL Joe thinks its romantic to fart in my face!” I really do not understand the appeal of this, but it always backfires when you want to talk to your friends/family about a serious relationship issue and they advise breaking up with the guy. After all, they’ve only ever heard shit about him, why would they defend him? People forget that their friends and family only know what you tell them about your relationship. If you only tell them crap, they will assume it’s crappy. A great relationship is a true partnership where you have each other’s back. You would never shit-talk someone if you had their back, even if it was under the guise of “venting.”

7. Relationships are work.

This is true to an extent, relationships require upkeep and you know, not getting your way 24/7. It’s a job sometimes, but there are different types of jobs. It should feel closer to working your dream job than the shitty nightmare unpaid internship you regrettably took in college. Listen to this song and determine whether you feel jealous and like the singer is “unrealistic” or like it is a fun reminder of your own relationship. That’s a good test.

8. Men are rational and women are emotional.

LOL at your actual relationship if you actually think this. Don’t try to explain why you have communication issues with your partner by saying their issue is an issue with their entire gender. Start there.

9. You shouldn’t try to fix/change someone.

I don’t know if there’s a more disheartening saying about relationships out there. Sure, you shouldn’t pick up any old dude off the street and spend the next 50 years of your life hammering him down until he fits your checklist — but no person should ever think that they don’t need to change or improve. You have a responsibility to use your life to become the best person you can. A crappy partner cares about determining what that is and setting goals for you, a great partner just wants to cheer you on as you follow your own goals. No good partner will sit passively by and be tied to a loser who has stopped dreaming.

Read more life-changing insight in our best-selling ebook The Truth About Everything.

Squooze originally appeared on MyConfinedSpace NSFW on June 16, 2014.

a peek originally appeared on MyConfinedSpace NSFW on June 17, 2014.

oral originally appeared on MyConfinedSpace NSFW on June 18, 2014.

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Tras el 5 a 1 de la semana pasada, los chicos de Del Bosque llevan ya varios días preparándose duramente para que el próximo partido contra Chile no les pille desprevenidos. “Al jugar contra Holanda no supimos qué cara poner. Esta vez, la derrota no nos pillará desprevenidos”, ha comentado...... Leer más

Unha imaxe para pensar. O escudo de Galiza na entrada do Cemiterio de Bonaval con texto en castelán e data dun ano despois da Revolución de Solís.

Só Compostela e Ourense teñen algún colexio no que o galego é maioritario, segundo un estudo d'A Mesa. Marcos Maceira censura o "desprezo" da Xunta pola lingua propia e alerta de que o proceso de "eliminación do galego do sistema educativo" está a ser "acelerado".

Los agentes se han llevado una torre de ordenador y cajas de documentación de una vivienda en San Lázaro

O Conselho Geral da Gentalha do Pichel, reunido nesta terça 17 de Junho no nosso centro social, quer expressar a sua imensa preocupaçom polo tratamento policial e mediático da detençom e registros praticados a primeira hora da tarde contra um vizinho de Compostela.

Esta pessoa, activista do nosso projeto cultural, ficou submetida a umha legislaçom “excepcional” de carácter marcadamente antidemocrático. E nom o dizemos nós: organismos internacionais de todo tipo, de Amnistia Internacional ao Relator para os Direitos Humanos da ONU, criticam um sistema judicial e a umha legislaçom espanhola, a “antiterrorista”, por amparar a tortura por motivaçons políticas. É por isto que na Gentalha ficamos intranquilas porque a pessoa detida permanece submetida a este tipo de medidas de excepçom no ámbito da mais legítima herdeira do Tribunal de Ordem Público: a Audiência Nacional.

A pessoa detida é umha pessoa activa na Gentalha desde a sua assembleia fundacional. É membro da Comissom de Meio Natural, é um companheiro no sentido mais fundo da palavra. Agora estará na Audiência Nacional sem contacto nenhum com o exterior. Sem atendimento de tipo legal, sem poder ver a sua família.

A Gentalha é um colectivo cultural e nom é competência nossa emitir juízos. Mas isto nom pode servir de argumentaçom para deixar de denunciar este tipo de comportamentos das autoridades. Nunca deixaremos de denunciar a vulneraçom dos mais elementais direitos individuais.

Aproveitamos para definir como decadente e carronheira a atitude dos meios de comunicaçom que nom duvidárom desde os primeiros momentos da detençom em mostrar fotos, nome e apelidos, titulares incriminatórios, endereço e todo o tipo de dados pessoais. Eles sabem que as suas hemerotecas som parte substancial da condena imposta e esta indefensível cumplicidade situa-os em muitos lugares; todos longe da neutralidade.

Compostela junho de 2014

En los restaurantes que recrean la típica comida americana nunca faltan aperitivos a base de pollo rebozado, son muy prácticos a la hora de compartir y picotear con las manos, y suelen gustar a todo el mundo. Hace tiempo vi por la red una idea interesante que me guardé en la memoria, y qué mejor ocasión que los aperitivos para el Mundial para poner en práctica esta receta de delicias de pollo al horno con Doritos.

Es una receta muy sencilla que funciona sorprendentemente bien. Las piezas de pollo se rebozan primero ligeramente en harina y huevo con leche para cubrirlas después con Doritos triturados. Al cocinarse en el horno ahorramos tiempo y calorías, y la capa exterior queda crujiente y muy sabrosa, siendo perfectos también para mojar en salsas.

Ingredientes para unas 4 personas

• 250 g de solomillos de pechuga de pollo o pechugas cortadas en tiras, 1 bolsa de Doritos Tex Mex, 2 huevos L, 50 ml de leche, harina, pimienta negra recién molida.

Cómo hacer aperitivo de delicias de pollo al horno con Doritos

Precalentar el horno a 190ºC y preparar una bandeja cubriéndola con papel sulfurizado o engrasándola con aceite. Secar bien con papel de cocina la carne de pollo, retirar los posibles excesos de grasa y cortar en piezas de unos 4-5 cm de largo. Si queremos la carne más tierna, la podemos dejar marinando en leche durante 30 minutos, secándola bien después.

Triturar los Doritos usando una picadora, procesador de alimentos o machacándolos directamente dentro de la bolsa. Hay que dejar una textura como de pan rallado algo grueso. Disponerlos en un cuenco. Batir los huevos con la leche en otro recipiente y cubrir un plato hondo con la harina.

Pasar cada pieza de pollo con harina, sacudiendo bien el exceso, cubrir con el huevo y rebozar después en los Doritos, apretando bien. Colocar en la bandeja y repetir el proceso con el resto de la carne. Hornear durante unos 25 minutos, hasta que estén bien dorados.

Tiempo de elaboración | 45 minutos Dificultad | Fácil

Degustación

Coloca estas delicias de pollo al horno con Doritos en una fuente o bandeja y sírvelas junto con varios cuencos de salsas diferentes y algún acompañamiento de patatas. Cada comensal podrá mojar estos crujientes bocados en su salsa preferida, y al no estar fritos evitaremos manchas de grasa al cogerlos con las manos.

En Directo al Paladar | Los mejores aperitivos para el Mundial de Brasil, en Directo al Paladar En Directo al Paladar | Medallones provenzales de queso de cabra crujiente al horno. Receta

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La noticia Delicias de pollo al horno con Doritos. Receta de aperitivo fue publicada originalmente en Directo al Paladar por Liliana Fuchs.

Para aquellos que llevamos siguiendo su trayectoria profesional desde hace más años de los que nos gustaría reconocer —y no porque él no lo merezca, sino por lo que revelaría con respecto a nuestra edad—, cualquier volumen con el nombre de Rubén Pellejero en portada es motivo de extremo regocijo, ya que sirve para ponernos en contacto con una forma de hacer cómic que aúna clasicismo y contemporaneidad y que, sobre todo, nunca deja indiferente a aquél que se acerca a sus páginas. Y mientras esperábamos impacientes a que los tres años que han transcurrido sin ninguna novedad suya tocaran a su fin con ese magnífico western que ya sabemos que es ‘Lobo de lluvia’, Astiberri nos sorprendía con un integral llamado a engalanar (¡¡y de qué manera!!) cualquier tebeoteca de la que termine formando parte.

A fin de cuentas, hablar de ‘Dieter Lumpen’ es hacerlo de uno de los mejores tebeos de aventuras que se han parido en nuestra tierra, y poder disfrutarlo ahora en un único tomo editado de forma exquisita por la editorial bilbaína es algo que cualquier amante del noveno arte debería celebrar, máxime si ese amante ya había leído hace años las aventuras de este curioso detective privado en alguna de las diferentes encarnaciones impresas que Lumpen tuvo, ya fuera en las páginas de la mítica revista ‘Cairo’ a mediados de los ochenta, ya en las de la no menos legendaria ‘CIMOC’ entre finales de la citada década y mediados de los noventa, ya en la edición que hizo Planeta DeAgostini en cómic-book a finales de ésta última.

Superadas todas ellas por la incuestionable calidad del volumen de Astiberri, poder asomarnos de nuevo a las páginas guionizadas y dibujadas por Jorge Zetner y Rubén Pellejero, tantos lustros después de hacerlo por primera vez, sirve para acercarnos, de una parte, a los cimientos de un tándem que en años posteriores nos regalará imprescindibles citas del tebeo español como ‘El silencio de Malka’, ‘Tabú’ o ‘Aromm’; y, de la otra, para redescubrir unas páginas que, lejos de envejecer o de haber sido maltratadas por el paso del tiempo, no han hecho sino ganar en solidez, demostrando que el arte de Pellejero era en aquellos primeros años de profesión tan efectivo en su trazo como asombroso en su narrativa, cualidades ambas que han ido en aumento en todo lo que el autor ha desarrollado después.

Decía antes que ‘Dieter Lumpen’ es uno de los mejores tebeos de aventuras que ha visto la luz en nuestro país, y lo cierto es que con tal afirmación me estaba quedando corto en dos frentes. El primero, es que circunscribir la grandeza de lo cuajado por Zetner y Pellejero hace más de cinco lustros a nuestras fronteras es menospreciar unas páginas que pueden tutear sin despeinarse a cualquier historia del género que nos halla podido llegar, ya de más allá de los Pirineos, ya desde el otro lado del charco. El segundo, es que limitar a la calificación de “tebeo de aventuras” a uno que se deja seducir de forma tan evidente por el noir sería hacer flaco favor a las intenciones de los autores por ir más allá y ofrecer historias, cortas o largas, en las que ambas vertientes se entremezclan de forma magistral.

Las tonalidades “clásicas” que tal combinación generan, sirven para conseguir que la lectura de ‘Dieter Lumpen’ nos traslade a los mismos tiempos a los que nos vemos impelidos a movernos cuando volvemos a ver ‘Casablanca’, guardando no pocas similitudes el personaje creado por el dúo de artistas con el Rick que Humphrey Bogart inmortalizó para la historia del séptimo arte en la cinta de Michael Curtiz. Ese semblante clásico bajo el que se arropa toda la lectura, queda aumentado, no cabe duda, por las infinitas cualidades del arte que Pellejero pone en juego aquí, y de no ser porque estaríamos desmereciendo lo que de magistral hay en todo aquello que ha plasmado en papel desde entonces, afirmar que las páginas aquí concretadas son lo mejor del autor no sería ninguna exageración.

Desvelando todas y cada una de las planchas un grado de comunión íntimo con los guiones de Zetner, la suma elegancia del trazo de Pellejero, sus impresionantes habilidades narrativas y lo exhaustivo del trabajo de documentación que llevó a cabo para trasladarnos de forma precisa a la época y exóticas localizaciones en las que se desarrolla la acción son valores que sólo empiezan a rascar en la grandeza de las páginas que, restauradas y ofrecidas a todo color para la ocasión por Astiberri, conforman —y espero sepáis perdonar la insistencia y reiteración— una de las lecturas IMPRESCINDIBLES que todo amante del cómic debería hacer alguna —más de una, a ser posible— vez a lo largo de su vida.

“It smells like blood. And it tastes like raw flesh. It’s not something you’ve ever been exposed to. But it strikes a chord somewhere deep inside.” That’s how Sheena Shaw, a 29-year-old porn star and extreme anal queen, describes the primal appeal of rosebud—a kind of extreme anal sex that is rapidly gaining popularity in the adult film world, popping boners and flipping stomachs with equal abandon.

While rosebud is named after those crimson flowers you get on Valentine’s Day, that’s where any intimation of sweet, romantic love ends. The sexual act that Shaw specializes in is, in fact, caused by an anal prolapse—a medical condition in which the inner walls of your rectum collapse and slip out of your butthole, the bright red internal tissue blooming out of your anus like a desert rose (cue Sting).

Of course, extreme anal practices like rosebud, fisting, enemas, and ass gaping are nothing new to the S&M crowd, or even the gay-porn industry. What is changing, however, is the encroachment of hardcore sex acts from the fringe into the mainstream. “Everyone’s pressured to do anal,” Sheena says. “Culture teaches us what to like and what not to like.”

What used to be taboo is now a staple, and the public is taking notice. On a thread titled “Increased Visibility of Anal Prolapse: Reasons?” from September 2013 on the online forum Adult DVD Talk, a user commented: “Anal prolapsing: at one time it was reserved... for girls who had performed one too many double anal scenes (Ava Devine, Amy Brooke: we’re looking at you). Now, we’re seeing much more of it on screen, even from performers who are fairly new to the industry.” So what is causing this blossoming of a thousand rosebuds? The same user hypothesized that anal performers just hid their prolapses off camera in the past. “(They) are now only showing it on screen because it has become acceptable and there is a growing market for it.”

Indeed, big porn companies like Evil Angel have started to produce top-quality extreme anal films with a variety of high-profile porn stars. Once a trend like this takes hold, a self-perpetuating feedback loop almost guarantees its continued spread. “When a gorgeous porn star does it, it is legendary stuff for extreme-anal-porn fans, thus resulting in even more gigs for the girls who can and will do it,” says the California-based porn director Jay Sin. He’s witnessed this effect firsthand—films of his like Deep Anal Abyss, Anal Acrobats, and Anal Buffet have gone on to become cult favorites. (Anal Buffet is now into its ninth sequel.)

But the conclusion that everyone from your boss to your creepy uncle is tuning in and getting turned on by girls pushing their innards out of their assholes is a vaguely unsettling—and simplistic—one. While porn films have gotten more aggressive and violent in recent decades, this could also be a result of not just evolving tastes but the internet’s impact on the porn industry.

The sheer quantity of amateur videos available for free on streaming sites poses a huge business problem for the commercial industry. Why would you reach into your wallet to purchase a film when thousands of videos of couples banging in their bedrooms are just a few clicks away? In response, the industry has turned towards niche markets that can’t be found easily online, for free. After all, the average girl next door might be able to take dick like Sasha Grey, but she most likely won’t be able to rosebud on command.

Mike South, a blogger who has been called “the king of porn gossip,” believes that by turning toward extremism, commercial porn has lost touch with its core fan base, who would be grossed out by rosebuds. When he first came into the business, in 1992, as a porn director and actor, the industry was effortlessly churning out releases, South says. A flooded market meant that films had to be different to get noticed. “At first it was relatively benign—gang bangs, anal, that kind of thing,” he recalls. “Then it was dressing girls up like preteens and picking them up on swing sets in schoolyards, forced oral until they threw up, forced anal… The more uncomfortable the girl looked, the more the industry would give it awards.

“Companies in porn are like blackbirds on a phone wire,” he continues. “When one takes off they all follow. I think, in this case, they all followed into the side of a glass building.”

Similarly, being able to rosebud is also a way for actresses to differentiate themselves from their competition. Working up to the level where you can prolapse isn’t easy. It requires repeated and prolonged scenes of taking massive objects up your ass until your rectal walls are so loose, you can just push them out of your anus. Sheena describes the feeling as similar to having a baby—only a few girls can just “plop it right out.” Most have to start preparing for the anal feat the night before, sleeping with butt plugs in to stretch out their assholes. They also train themselves to have powerful abdominal control, relaxing their sphincters and pelvic-floor muscles while simultaneously contracting their abdominal muscles. “I wish it hurt still, but it doesn’t,” she laughs.

Even so, self-inflicted anal prolapses are extremely risky. Few performers will risk losing their fans by admitting this, but bowel problems are a common side effect of repeated rosebud scenes. While many stars claim to take breaks, even time off doesn’t really tighten everything back up. Rectal surgery, typically reserved for the elderly, is the only medical solution for plugging up a leaking ass.

The problem is that in an industry where word-of-mouth is sometimes trusted more than facts, many actresses are ignorant or disbelieving of these long-term health risks. “When I started doing [rosebud], I wasn’t aware of the repercussions,” admits Sheena. “People would say, ‘Oh, that’s a myth.’ But I know women who have gotten really hurt, who’ve gotten tears and fissures in their assholes.”

Roxy Raye, photo courtesy of RoxyRaye.com

Roxy Raye, another leading anal queen who specializes in rosebud scenes, has faith in the invincibility of her physical prowess. “I wouldn’t say I’m concerned about the long term. Over the six years I have done this I have always healed very well,” she claims. “I don’t think the average joe realizes how elastic of a muscle your ass is. Maybe I’ll be the first guinea pig to report back on the results in ten to 15 years.”

The dominant attitude of the industry toward the possible side effects of repeated rosebudding is perhaps best captured by Jay Sin, who has directed Roxy in several of his films. “If there are [side effects], it’s cool,” he says, somewhat flippantly. “She could stop doing it.”

In a way, porn stars who rosebud are like football players, sustaining repeated physical injury for our entertainment. Except that, unlike pro-athletes, porn stars rarely, if ever, make more money for rosebud scenes than “regular” anal acts. (Although anal queens like Roxy and Sheena still command higher overall anal rates than other stars.) When I asked Sheena what resources would be available to her if she got injured on set, she replied, “No one ever talks about that. They make you sign waivers before you do these scenes. You’re absolutely not going to get workers' comp.”

When it comes to what happens to performers once they leave the business, South glumly notes that there are absolutely zero safety nets to catch them should they develop physical issues further down the line. He puts it this way: “The industry doesn’t care about performers. They care about better train wrecks.”

Perhaps the only recourse for the next wave of rosebud stars is to take the advice of the more experienced. Sheena Shaw remembers how Amy Brooke, a legendary anal veteran, would tell younger performers what they were in for. “OK, girls, keep it up and you’re going to be a spokesperson for adult diapers!”

For those with an interest in seeing a rosebud bloom, here is a super NSFW video clip titled "Anal Acrobats Extreme Prolapse" from PornerBros.com. 

Follow Michelle on Twitter.

Perhaps they felt that enough time had passed since their forced Google-Plus integration fiasco, as YouTube has now confirmed that as part of their new platform changes independent labels and artists who refuse to sign onto their internal licensing deal will find their content blocked.

Stating that the changes could take effect “in a matter of days,” YouTube is set to begin testing on their new approach, which will charge people to watch music videos ad-free, and also allow direct downloads of the music in question. This initial launch of the YouTube Music Pass service will begin on a small scale, but the company has said the full roll-out will occur before the end of 2014.

Under this new plan, everyone from your local bar band to the likes of Jack White and Adele could see their videos instantly removed from YouTube as their independent imprints have as yet to agree to terms under this service change.

A vast majority of musicians have been openly and quite vehemently opposed to the change, with Billy Bragg perfectly capturing the thoughts of most when he said, “I don’t know why they’ve opened this hornet’s nest right now, apart from corporate hubris. I don’t think they realize what a stupid thing they’ve done.”

From YouTube’s side of things, they’ve hidden behind the claim that they will be making more money for labels both big and small, yet gloss over just how much more they themselves will be making from the song purchases and ad-revenue changes.

Clearly, YouTube is following their parent company’s odd moves towards being evil as of late, and a class action lawsuit has already been filed with the European Trading Commission concerning the “forced” strategy YouTube is currently taking.

Long story short: YouTube has been a level playing field for bands almost since its inception, but this new approach is clearly aimed at placing money over access.

Joel Freimark hosts a daily music-related webseries HERE and you can follow his daily music musings and suggestions HERE as well.

Image: Reel Static

Follow @thedailyguru

En el ámbito de las peleas físicas, con los puños en alto, los seres humanos no se comportan tanto como en una película de Bruce Lee o en la serie Dragon Ball (todo estética, valentía y honor) como en una película de los hermanos Marx, o más concretamente como en Fight Club.

Sí, Fight Club, no tanto porque las peleas son más sucias, que también, como porque la gente rehúye pelearse; y si lo hace no parece una pelea, sino una ridícula sucesión de golpes que dan al aire, miradas desafiantes, un agarre, caída al suelo cual borrachos, y poco más. A veces hay algún abrazo de oso que desencadena algún puñetazo rápido, ineficaz, casi tanteando. Pero no tardan en separarse, intercambiar bravatas y verborrea escatológica, y poco más.

Porque, como decían en Fight Club, el ser humano, en general, no está dispuesto a iniciar una pelea con los puños. Y ello tiene cierto sustrato darwiniano, tal y como explica Steven Pinker en Los ángeles que llevamos dentro:

Aunque uno se imponga matando a alguien, habrá dado a sus parientes la posibilidad de que lo maten para vengarse. Es lógico que una criatura darwiniana sopese con muchísimo cuidado el inicio de una agresión seria en un pulso simétrico, reticencia experimentada en forma de ansiedad o parálisis. La discreción es la mejor parte de la valentía; la compasión, en cambio, no tiene nada que ver en esto.

Es decir, que el ser humano es violento, en efecto, pero suele ejecutar una violencia cobarde: golpes a traición, emboscadas, peleas con muchísima ventaja, guerras preventivas, ataques de madrugada, acciones mafiosas, disparos desde coches en marcha. El enfrentamiento uno-a-uno estilo Hollywood está totalmente desaconsejado.

Collins documenta, asimismo, un síndrome recurrente que él llama “huir hacia delante”, aunque “alborotarse” sería una expresión más familiar. Cuando una coalición agresiva acecha o se enfrenta a un adversario que se halla en un estado prolongado de aprensión y miedo, lo haya en un momento de vulnerabilidad, el miedo se transforma en furia, y los hombres dan rienda suelta a un frenesí salvaje. Una ira aparentemente imparable los impulsa a golpear a los enemigos hasta dejarlos inconscientes, torturar y mutilar a los hombres, violar a las mujeres y destruir sus bienes y propiedades. La huida hacia delante es la violencia en un grado más inquietante. Es el estado mental que provoca genocidios, masacres, disturbios étnicos mortales y batallas en las que no se hacen prisioneros.

En otras palabras, el instinto subyacente a cualquier reyerta sugiere que el repertorio conductual humano incluye “guiones” o “pautas” para la violencia que están inactivos pero que pueden activarse súbitamente por causas determinadas.

En cualquier caso, seguiremos disfrutando de las batallas sumamente estéticas de las películas de Hollywood, ralentizadas estilo Matrix y armónicas como un ballet. Una estética que traté de ridiculizar en el siguiente fragmento de una novela que publiqué hace años (Venus decapitada), y que me atrevo a transcribiros porque creo que viene muy a cuento:

Se celebra la primera ópera UZI, que pronto será la única clase de espectáculos operísticos a los que asistirán los hombres. La ópera UZI se caracteriza principalmente porque sus intérpretes, ya sean sopranos o mezzosopranos, no emplean las gargantas para transmitir emociones. Los intérpretes de una ópera UZI recurren sólo a subfusiles Uzi Ingram provistos de silenciador y con munición convencional de 9 milímetros. Un arma de pequeño tamaño aunque de gran elocuencia que fue desarrollada en los años 50 por el teniente del Ejército israelí Uziel Gal. Es cierto que una laringe otorga una gama vocal más amplia que un subfusil Uzi Ingram, pero en las óperas UZI también se puede recurrir a otro tipo de armas o detonadores para generar sonidos vagamente articulados. Como si las fonías fuesen distintos tipos de explosiones acústicas generadas exclusivamente con pólvora.

El subfusil Uzi Ingram es un arma automática que también puede ser usado en ráfagas, lo que aumenta su poder de fuego. La cadencia de disparos hace de él un arma temible. Su tamaño portátil, sin embargo, la dota de una elegancia única. La ópera UZI ha logrado elevar a la categoría de arte plástica lo que antaño sólo eran acrobacias de película de acción protagonizada por un actioner cebado de esteroides. La ópera UZI muestra una dosis de ultraviolencia tan cercana al paroxismo que, en ocasiones, los surtidores multidireccionales de glóbulos rojos y los recuentos astronómicos de cadáveres convierte en cómico lo que de forma natural sería macabro. Como las persecuciones de Elmer y Bugs Bunny mezcladas en una coctelera arty con el hemoglobínico John Woo. Así era la ópera UZI, cuya entrada estaba vetada a las mujeres.

Las armas de fuego son el culmen de la volición. Un experto en artes marciales usa mechero en vez de pedernal y teléfono móvil en vez de señales de humo, pero a la hora de tomar las riendas de su destino, a la hora de usar su fuerza y su inteligencia, su mente, en suma, se decanta por las manos y las piernas, prescindiendo de un revólver o una metralleta. Por misticismo. Por ritualismo. Por estética. Pero las manos y las piernas no son más útiles que la pólvora y los proyectiles, inventados por los cerebros más preclaros de la historia. Porque una Uzi, una ráfaga de Uzi, es una fulgurante luz de razón, evolución y juicio. La luz de una idea. La bala neuronal. El pragmatismo tras miles de años de pruebas y errores. Por esa razón las mujeres asisten al musical de Cats en Broadway y los hombres prefieren el espectáculo del bang, bang y el piñau, piñau.

El actioner sale a escena ataviado con traje oscuro y gafas de montura azul. Comienza a danzar, dando brincos y vueltas en el aire. Mientras ejecuta sus cabriolas, dispara sendas Uzis como si fueran una prolongación de sus manos. Los impactos de bala suenan en las tablas de madera del techo y las paredes como los picotazos de un pájaro carpintero percutiendo en un árbol. Los orificios de las balas dibujan improvisadas obras de arte puntillistas. También, frente a libretos de mayor calado filosófico, el intérprete se mueve a cámara lenta para que todos sus movimientos sean registrados por el público; entonces más que danzar parece practicar tai chi.

El público abre los ojos y descuelga la boca, maravillado por el espectáculo de luz estroboscópica y sonido repetitivo. Algún espectador incluso debe reprimir la lágrima. Otro actioner se une al primero y ambos, al unísono, disparan hacia todas direcciones sus armas de fuego. Los silenciadores convierten los estrépitos en tableteos casi hipnóticos. Su sonido podría ser incluso relajante para algunos oídos, como un mantra. Las ráfagas de las armas salen escupidas alrededor de los cuerpos de los actioners al igual que si los actioners fuesen girándulas pirotécnicas. Los proyectiles silban muy cerca de las cabezas de las primeras filas del anfiteatro. Se oye más de un aplauso cuando la ejecución de alguna acrobacia ha rebasado las habilidades cinéticas medias de un actioner. Las Uzis Ingram se lanzan dimes y diretes. Sólo un oído entrenado es capaz de descifrar su parlamento. La ráfaga final, la contraréplica, agita la corbata negra del actioner como si ésta fuese un pez recién sacado del agua. Finalmente, la corbata queda hecha trizas como demostración de que las palabras pueden llegar a ser arrolladoras. Y el público prorrumpe en una salva de aplausos mientras intenta abarcar con la vista los millares de agujeros que han quedado en los tablones de madera del techo y las paredes como pruebas del conflicto verbal al que han asistido.

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La noticia La gente que se pelea hace el ridículo fue publicada originalmente en Xatakaciencia por Sergio Parra.

By David Christopher Bell  Published: June 17th, 2014  It's official: Game of Thrones has surpassed The Sopranos as HBO's most watched face-crushing boobstravaganza of all time, officially crowning it the Lord of All Television. Appropriately, raising the show about fantasy espionage and murder to this s

By J. F. Sargent  Published: June 17th, 2014  Sex is like a lifelong normalcy contest. To find happiness, you should spend every day worrying about the kinds of sex you like, and whether you'll ever meet someone else who shares those likes. Then you comfort your untouched body by rubbing your ha

In 1976, the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics ran a household survey that marked a crucial departure from other census exercises. The Pesquisa Nacional por Amostra de Domicílios (PNAD) did not ask Brazilians to choose a race category among pre-determined choices; instead, researchers went out and asked people to describe the colour they thought they were.

Google prepares to kill independent labels on YouTube.

Biblioteca Clásicos del Suspense, trae de forma cronológica y ordenada, los títulos de suspense de las series Shock SuspenStories y Crime SuspenStories.

Prohibidos y perseguidos en su época, con el tiempo se han convertido, por derecho propio, en verdaderos clásicos del cómic de género gracias al talento de artistas de la talla de Harvey Kurtzman, Johnny Craig, Graham Ingels, Jack Davis,Wally Wood, Bernie Krigstein y un larguísimo etcétera.

Idioma: Español.
Editorial: Planeta
Guion: Johnny Craig, Bill Gaines, Jack Kamen, Varios. 
Dibujo: Wally Wood, Johnny Craig, George Roussos, Varios. 
Tradumaquetadores: Txirimol (CRG) 
Archivos: 8 Tomos 
Formato: CBR . Blanco y Negro 
Tamaño: 372 Mb



Descarga:

• Biblioteca Clásicos del Suspense

Tras una intensa semana de trabajo y conspiración que ha valido por seis y nos ha costado años de vida, estamos preparados para anunciar la publicación este miércoles del cómic digital “Orgullo y Satisfacción”, en la que los abdicados de El Jueves le damos la bienvenida a su majestad el rey Felipe VI. Ahí os dejo nuestra bandera, la info que necesitáis y un adelanto en forma de chiste de Manel Fontdevila.

Once upon a time a young, unbearded George R. R. Martin read issue seventeen of Fantastic Four fresh off the drugstore rack, and he loved it so much he simply couldn’t keep his joy to himself, so he decided to write a gushing letter to the Marvel comics bullpen (aka Stan Lee and Jack Kirby) via the Fantastic Four Fan Page.

His skills as a writer were already evident, even though he was but fourteen or fifteen years old, but the overwhelming desire to destroy the lives of fictional characters readers have grown to love had yet to manifest in young Mr. Martin’s prose.

Take it from your old pal George- the best way to become a best-selling fantasy author is to read lots of comic books! 'Nuff said!

-Via GeekTyrant

Click here for last week's episode.

Casa da Algalia de Arriba.

Ainda que pareza que ten 3 xanelas por altura, son en realidade dous edificios. Facendo esquina están dous estreitos edificios que tentan mimetizarse nos de cadanseu lado. O balcón comeza a facer bosque baixo. Urbanismo compostelán…

DL Info